Acceptance
by ChickWG
Summary: M/K. Set after ET's death.
1. Acceptance

**Part 1: Acceptance**

He finds her on the boat deck. Her tiny frame is slumped, her elbows resting on her knees. It is late and he knows nobody will venture along the deck for at least another hour. He knows she would not be there otherwise.

He watches her silently, knowing better then to intrude upon her emotion turmoil. She needs a moment, and he knows his presence will cost her. He bites his lip as he quells the frustration coiling in his abdomen. He hates that his presence would burden her, when all he wants to do is relieve her sadness.

But he doesn't want to be alone tonight.

And some days he is not the hero he wants to be.

He crosses the distance in three quick strides, purposely knocking against the Hammersley's exterior to alert her to his presence. She has managed to dry her eyes by the time he reaches her, and she looks at him in confusion as he slides down the bulkhead.

"Sir," she greets professionally, but his trained ear can hear the rawness underneath her words.

"Kate," he greets in return, purposely using her first name to inform her he is there on a personal note. His voice is barely audible, however, over the hum of the engines and the churning of the sea.

The silence reigns as she stares into the ocean.

"It's not your fault Mike," she ventures softly. He does not turn to face her as he watches the sea swirl around them.

His crew.

His sailors.

His responsibility.

"It's not your fault," she repeats, a gentle hand resting softly on his forearm.

He turns to face her but she diverts her gaze back to the sea.

She is hurting.

And he knows she does not want him to see it.

"What are you doing out here?" he finally asks, turning his gaze towards her. She continues to keep her eyes trained on the distance, but he can see the unshed emotion glistening under her steely exterior. She takes a deep breath, which makes her whole body shudder, before she turns to him, obviously having grown restless under his relentless stare.

"Thought I would give Nikki some time," she replies, her voice tightly controlled.

They have all pretended not to hear their Navigator's muffled sobs in the dead of night.

He hears her breath hitch as she chokes back a sob, and he suddenly feels his hands frame her face, bringing her lips to his with a desperation he has never felt before.

He feels her body stiffen in shock, but he refuses to let her back away, desperately clinging to her form.

She forcefully pushes him back, her eyes burning with ferociousness as she stares at him. He watches as the emotions flit through her steely orbs. Regret. Anger. Hatred. Sadness. Guilt. She looks away, and he knows he had just shattered their fragile status quo.

Then her eyes flick back to him.

Something has changed.

With shock clarity, he realizes why she is out here.

"You knew I would come looking for you," he asserts softly, realizing she has had the upper hand the entire time. She does not look away and her eyes confirm his statement.

"I don't want to be made love to," she asserts coldly, the grief barely suppressed in her tone.

She is punishing herself he realizes.

She wants to be hurt.

He takes a deep breath.

So does he.

Because this is his fault.

He looks into her eyes.

"Tonight," he replies, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to be alone."

She nods at his words.

Offer Accepted.


	2. ReAct

**Part 2: ****ReAct**

Mike Flynn took a calming breath as he stared intently at the rack.

If he concentrated hard enough, maybe he would have some answers.

But the answers to what?

He sighed as his eyes fluttered closed, his mind trying to sooth the inexplicable tightness in his chest.

He could still taste her, his tongue skimming his lips in remembrance. He could still feel her warmth underneath his fingertips, hear her muffled cries, her eyes dark with desire. He gulped as he tried to still the sudden surge of hormones. God, he wanted her under him.

He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to banish the memories.

In less than five minutes time, he had to be the Lieutenant Commander of the HMAS Hammersley.

And he knew in five minutes, he would have to come face to face with his Executive Officer.

When all he wanted was his Kate.


	3. Trawl

**Trawl**

For the twenty-third time in twenty seconds, he desperately wished he had a way with words.

She was staring at him expectantly.

Of course she was.

He had called her to his cabin.

"Kate," he began, and cursed inwardly when his jittered brain failed to add anything to her name.

Well not anything, but he did not think 'Let's do it again' was going to be adequate.

"Sir," she repeated, her distant tone echoing off the hollow walls.

He sighed as his eyes traveled to her perfect posture, her eyes fixed dead ahead. He felt his chest constrict as he took a breath. He needed to talk to Kate. Hell, he would even settle for his 'X.' Right now he was talking to his XO.

Not his lover, not his friend, but his naval Executive Officer.

"Kate, can you take a seat," he attempted, stealing a quick glance towards her. This time, she flinched.

If he ever wanted evidence that last night had meant something, the grimace had confirmed it.

She cared.

Which meant he could hurt her.

Shit.

Where the hell were those magic words?

He looked up briefly to see her hesitate, before clenching her jaw and taking a seat as instructed.

She sat on the only available piece of furniture available.

His rack.

He cursed inwardly.

"Sir," she stated forcefully, pulling his attention towards her.

Waiting.

"I just wanted to talk about yesterday's occurrence," he replied firmly, inwardly cringing as his debriefing words fell from his mouth.

He felt the tightness ease when he saw the tip of her lip curve upward in recognition of the familiar words. He chose to ignore that the smile was at his expense.

She cleared her throat.

"I think Nikki is coping relatively well under the circumstances," she replied her tone easing slightly as she took comfort in the safe topic of the Navigator.

He watched as a stray eye rolled towards him, obviously trying to assess whether the decoy would be accepted. He remained silent.

"She's performing well, better than what can be expected, under the circumstances," she continued, taking a small breath as she recounted the situation.

He gave a brief nod as he indulged her.

Coward, he berated inwardly.

"Sir, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," she began hesitantly, and he felt his heart surge with hope as he looked towards her. Maybe he would not need to come up with the opening line after all.

"Lancelot," she replied formally, watching his face for a flicker of recognition.

He blinked at her.

What?

"The fish," she stated, eying him expectantly as he stared at her.

Fish. They were at sea. There were many fish.

"Nikki's clown fish," she elaborated.

Nikki had a clown fish?

He heard her sigh.

Obviously, his expression had given him away.

He frowned slightly, how often did he look like a dumbass that she would recognize the expression instantly?

Then he felt the warmth spread through his abdomen.

She had been looking.

"Nikki has brought her clown fish aboard the Hammersley. E.T. gave it to her the night he proposed," she stated calmly but he heard her voice hitch ever so slightly on the name of their former shipmate. "I know the Navy regs, but with permission-"

"Whatever she needs, Kate," he replied automatically. This time she directly met his gaze, giving him a small nod in acceptance. He felt his mouth instantly dry as she finally made eye contact. He was certain she could hear his erratic heartbeat.

"Kate," he began softly, daring her to break their gaze as he searched her eyes, trying to read her.

"Don't," she responded.

It was almost like a plea, the short word pulling at his heartstrings. She turned her uncertain green eyes towards him, a mixture of fear and confidence.

"Drop it," she finished, her tone carrying a sense of finality as she slowly rose from the bed. She paused momentarily, giving him the opportunity to respond.

He wanted to know.

Needed to know.

"Mike," she offered softly, and he turned to her surprised.

"Do you ever have those events that you force yourself not to think about, because if you did, you wouldn't be able to think of anything else?" she asked, voice fractionally above a whisper.

He gave a small nod in reply, not trusting his voice.

She gave a small nod in response as she exited.

He knew she would never allow him to broach the subject again.

And above all.

This conversation never happened.


End file.
